The Little Things
by tonystarktheautobot
Summary: Jim thinks about how he came to this moment: how he just happened to visit Bones when the man was with a patient diagnosed with ADHD. Funny, he thinks as more tears roll down his face, how the most innocuous little things can change your life, forever. Jim/Bones, Spock/Uhura, Sarek/Amanda, character with a disability. note: I HAVE ADHD. Please stop telling me my depiction is wrong!


**The Little Things**

**Kirk/Bones, Spock/Uhura, Sarek/Amanda**

**a universe in which Amanda Grayson did not die with Vulcan**

It's long past time since Kirk should've gone to bed, but he remains as he has been for the past three hours: sitting fixated before the pads spread upon his desk, nicked from Med Bay. He'll return them in the morning.

Technically, it already is morning, and he has an early shift that's gonna suck to have to get up for, but Kirk can't stop. His eyes dart back to the data, leaping from line to line, stuck in the semi-wide surprise they've been in since he started reading.

Hands' running over his sleep pants, tightening around his knees Kirk reads the title on the first pad again: _Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder_. Just beneath it is a concise list of the basic symptoms, which the pad further elaborates on below. Transfixed, Jim continues on, reading the list of symptoms, one after the other.

…

_Procrastination_

"Goddamn it Jim!"

He couldn't help but snort at the tone though Jim knew that wouldn't help his case. "What? I'll get it done."

When Bones approached, Jim could practically see the fire coming out of his nostrils. "How, may I ask, seeing as you've had two months to work on it and haven't done a damn thing, and it's due tomorrow?"

"I don't have Vossler's class until three." Kirk explained dryly, reclined upon the couch. A small kernel of anxiety over the project – at the thought of trying to complete it, at the thought of being unable to complete it, at the idea of failing the project and maybe even failing the grade or, God forbid, failing out of Starfleet – comes to life in his gut. It's not enough to motivate him.

"Jim, I've had people suffer nervous break downs and end up in my care because of stress related to Vossler's damn Command Strategy end of semester projects. You literally have less than twelve hours to finish months of work." The doctor slowed to a halt. "… and you don't even give a damn do you?"

Honestly? He really doesn't. Doing the project is so low on his list of wants that it's in the negative numbers. He knows it's important, he knows he needs to do it, of course he does.

"I'm just gonna finish watching this episode." Kirk insists, curling onto his side on the couch with his popcorn bowl against his stomach. "Don't worry so much, I've got it."

"What, like how you 'got' that research assignment vid project for that Xeno-culture class done? Or how you completely aced that last test you swore you were going to study for the night before?"

Those memories swirl around in Kirk's stomach and the small bit of anxiety becomes a knot. He knows those were not his finest moments: and he can think of a half a dozen others where the work just did not get done in time or did not get done very well because he kept putting off starting it. _Damn_, the cadet thinks, cringing mentally. If he'd known Starfleet would be this hard maybe he'd have stayed a genius repeat offender.

It's not that he doesn't want this. He does, more than anything; but there's so much work, all the time, always needing to be done, and so much fucking studying to do, it's overwhelming. Most of the time Jim's getting by on the skin of his teeth and luck, and both he and Bones knew it.

Sighing again, Jim turned to look at his friend. "I know, okay? I just… I don't feel like it yet."

That pretty much sent the doctor through the roof, finally making Jim throw his hands up and get started on the project. He started the research, and then decided to have dinner thirty minutes later. In the cafeteria, he bumped into Uhura, and spent some time trading barbs with her and having a little fun. He was on his way back to the room to work when a fellow classmate told him about a really wicked party happening at one of the civilian colleges nearby – and there was a hot tub involved.

He hesitated half a second before agreeing to go, and felt a spark of joy at the happy grins he got in return as his classmates ushered him off with them. What was to worry about anyway? Vulcan Culture wasn't that complicated. If he made sure to get home around midnight, he could crunch out the work and still get a few hours' sleep before class.

_Easily Distracted_

"Captain?"

Kirk barely managed to hide his wince, turning to face his first officer with a charming smile. The Vulcan was standing at the end of the table in the conference room, arms behind his back, an expectant eyebrow raised at Jim. Obviously whatever was just said requires his input, and Jim cursed himself for not paying attention.

Dammit, he's the Captain now! It's not like he's still back the Academy, and can get away with never paying attention in class by borrowing someone's (usually Bones) notes, or reading the text book. There's no getting away with not listening in this environment and the day dreaming has to stop.

"I, uh" Sheepishly, Jim tried hiding his nerves behind a laugh. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Months of working together have allowed Jim to learn Spock's expressions – right then, his expression was certainly perturbed. Uhura and Bones, sitting on the other side of the table, wore similar expressions.

"I was inferring, Captain, that it would be advisable to allow Mr. Scott to complete his alterations on the ship's computers before we attempt to continue on our present course…"

_God_, Kirk thought, _Spock is so fucking dry_. At least, he thinks its Spock – though it could just be Vulcans. But then, Ambassador Spock never sounded that boring, at all. Sometimes Kirk had trouble remembering the two were even the same person because they were so different, and not just because of the altered lives thing. The Ambassador actually sounded human, instead of like a robot, and Jim could usually understand when the older Vulcan was making jokes or being sarcastic, whereas the young Spock –

"Captain, are you listening to me?"

Color rising to his cheeks, Kirk felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Uh, yeah, yes, I – uh – I agree with your, um, logic." He happened to glance across the table and notice Uhura rolling her eyes at him, and feels further shame burn him up. God, he's such an idiot.

After the meeting, storming down the halls, Kirk vanished into his office and collapsed into his chair with a huff. He's the fucking Captain now – he can't afford to be the irresponsible dickhead he was a few years ago. Why the fuck isn't he mature enough to do something as simple as listen to Spock talk?

_Easily Bored_

"Dear god, is it over yet?"

Sulu fought to stifle his laughter from his spot sitting in the row behind Jim and Leonard; Bones elbowed Jim sharply.

"What are you, twelve? Just watch the show."

Grumbling, Jim crossed his arms and leaned forward, eyes on the presentation again. He wondered why alien cultures couldn't have a thing for something interesting, like combat tournaments, or drinking competitions. God, anything but _ballet_.

With another sigh, Jim leaned back, his fingers tapping a rhythm on his arm. It had to be over soon. Felt like they'd been there for hours already, but when he pulls his communicator out of his pocket, it reveals that barely half an hour has gone by. Jim barely restrained his groan. Biting his lip, he turned back to the dancing.

For about five minutes, he watched the smooth movements and listened to the strange harp music, feeling his mind bristling and more than eager to just leap up and run away. He'd tried getting out of coming, had even come up with an excuse and explained to the planet's delegates why he would not be present – but Spock just had to show up and drag him out.

Speaking of, the Vulcan shot Jim a look when he happened to glance to his left. Spock's eyes darted down meaningfully, and Kirk followed them, suddenly noticing for the first time that he's been tapping his foot. Surprised, he stopped himself, and gave a nervous shrug in apology.

Resigned to his fate, Jim leaned back and let his mind drift off into thoughts of the Enterprise, imagined adventures and pranks. He thought about a good way to get Spock back for this night of tortures when a sharp pinch to his leg jolted him awake.

"Hey! What the hell?"

Bones, glowering, muttered quietly. "Can you stop fidgeting?"

Flushing, but trying to hide it, Jim rolled his eyes. "Sorry, all right?" Jim wrapped his arms around himself, crossed his feet at the ankles, and sat, staring at the ballet.

Yeah. Spock definitely had to pay for this.

_Impulsive, Snap Decisions and Irresponsible Behavior_

Sneaking around on his own ship was a little embarrassing, but Jim would take some embarrassment over the alternative. A trail of blood was being left behind him, which was bad enough, and there was a part of Jim that realized it would be only a matter of time before he was discovered. But maybe if he could be quick enough, he could hide the worst of the damage and get away with only a little of Bones and his hypos.

Jim turned a corner and stumbled into the wall, vision reeling, wondering for a moment if he overestimated his ability to carry himself back to his room in this state. But he shook the thought aside and kept walking, sure that he'd make it to his room soon enough… the blood loss wasn't that bad…

"Captain? Captain, are you… Jim!"

That was the last Jim knew of the world, until he woke up in the med bay. Immediately he groaned and shut his eyes again.

"Oh boy," He mumbled, raising a hand to his head. "I'm in trouble."

"You got that right." Bones' voice came from his right, and Jim realized suddenly that he'd spoken aloud. "What the hell happened to you?"

Jim had hoped he'd have more time to come up with a lie. But before he could even try, another voice answered for him.

"The Captain was engaged in a 'bar brawl' on the planet's surface at approximately 23:34 hours last night." Turning, Jim caught sight of a familiar bowl cut and sharp eyes looking at him from across the room. "He made sexual overtures -"

"I hit on somebody, somebody else didn't like it, to make a very long winded Vulcan explanation short." Jim mumbled, trying to ignoring the drums beating in his head. That was hard to do since Bones was smacking his shoulder and jostling him.

"You goddamned idiot! What the hell did you do that for?"

"I didn't know he had a mate!"

For a minute, he wondered if it had been a mistake to mention that it had been a he, but neither Bones nor Spock took notice or offence. "That is not correct, Jim." Spock insisted quickly. "You did, in fact, choose to target that particular male because you realized he was mated."

Jim, sitting up, stumbles over his words with a rough tongue, vague irritation tickling his throat. "How the hell do you know all this anyway?"

"I ascertained the information from a light mind meld when I realized you were injured and was uncertain of the extent of the damage."

"And you couldn't just let Bones look at me?"

Before he could even try standing up, Bones pushed him back down. "Don't even think about it." Scoffing, the doctor returned to his equipment, a prominent vein appearing on his forehead. "Of all the stupid shit – You're a captain, now, Jim, you can't go around picking fights and getting the shit beat outta you for no goddamn reason!"

"To be fair, I wasn't aiming for the 'shit beat out of me' part." Grimacing, Jim succumbed to the pain and relaxed into the pillows, hands clenching and unclenching. "I wasn't - it was just a…" He searched his mind for a reason, an explanation.

What can he say? That he saw an attractive alien man, realized he was taken, and suddenly was overcome by the need to _do_ something. He didn't even know what until he was doing it – or, that wasn't quite true; part of him knew but consciously he didn't admit it even as he was doing it. His body just moved, without thought, working ahead of him towards a foolish, illogical end. He couldn't really say why he did it. He just did.

"I was bored." He said finally, staring at the ceiling, and allowed Bones' angry tirade and Spock's silent disapproval to fill the room.

_Blurt out inappropriate comments, show their emotions without restraint, and act without regard for consequences_

Do you have any idea what you've done, they all asked him.

Do you realize how immature and irresponsible you've been, they all said.

This is behavior that is unacceptable for a Starship Captain, they all reminded him.

It's nothing he hadn't told himself.

Sitting in his room in the silence and darkness of 'night', Jim struggled to sleep, incapable of shutting out the voices of the past few hours, the reprimands, the vid conferences, the political fallout. He tried to tell himself that he doesn't care: Ambassador so and so from Sig-something something planet of the Something or other, whatever, that did not give him the right to disrespect one of Kirk's own crew members right in front of him. So hell yeah he was going to speak his mind.

Maybe it was going to put a huge lurch into the process of bringing that species into the Federation. So maybe he'd set diplomacy back… pretty far, and ruined months of work. So what? He'd done the right thing. Just because no one else was brave enough to put it to the asshole that obviously needed to be told what a dick he was, didn't mean Kirk was afraid to.

So he told himself as the minutes turned to hours and sleep eluded him. He told himself that it was right, and forcefully tried to forget how, in the moment, his mouth had opened and the words poured out before he'd even known he would say them – that, if he could have, he'd caught them midair and stuffed them back inside. That he hadn't even known why he'd said them, why he'd let them go, that he regretted saying them. That, quietly in his mind, the question repeated again and again: why did I say that?

_Hyperfocus: the ability to completely and utterly focus on one topic or issue, often to the exclusion of others, with precise and productive concentration, until the end result is achieved._

"You cannot be serious about trying a third time."

Jim ignored Bones as he entered their shared dorm, focusing upon pad on his desk. Stylus moving like lightning, Jim vaguely listened to his friend's voice in the background as he moved through the calculations he would need.

For weeks he'd been working on this plan: on the subroutine he'd need to change the test; on how to actually install it into the computer; working out how the test worked and how to change it; all the nitty gritty details.

That was only after he'd tried the test twice, without alteration. The first time he'd gone in pretty sure of his success, and the loss had hit him like a blow to the head. He'd gone home that night and forsaken his readings and studying for the next day to research tactical maneuvers, to see what he could have done, to figure out the flaw in his plan. There had to be a way to pass the test.

For a week he studied those journals to the detriment of all else, canceling plans, skipping out on homework, even missing a class once. Then, when he'd been absolutely sure of his new strategy, he'd tried again.

And failed.

Third time's the charm, Kirk smiled to himself, as he continued his work.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Head shooting up and brain coming back from the clouds, Jim nodded. "Uh, yeah, of course."

"So what'd I say?"

Mind going blank, Jim felt his heart stammer a little bit. It always did when he was caught like this. After years of daydreaming and not listening to people you'd think he'd be better at bullshitting his way through conversations. Though, even if he was, Bones would probably see through it.

"Something about how I'm an idiot and a glutton for punishment?"

His friend snorted. "Something like that."

Smiling, Jim dove back into his work. He would beat it this time – and if he didn't? He'd keep trying until he did.

…

By the time he's that far down the list, tears are rolling down Kirk's cheeks. He glances over the other symptoms and their explanations, and each time is bombarded by half a dozen memories, experiences, thoughts, and problems he's faced.

_Seeks constant activity; avoids situations with low physical activity or sedentary work_

_Losers temper easily; impatient_

_Be easily distracted, miss details, forget things, and frequently switch from one activity to another_

_Have difficulty maintaining focus on one task_

_Daydream, become easily confused, and move slowly_

_Have difficulty processing information as quickly and accurately as others; struggle to follow instructions._

_Have difficulty waiting for things they want_

_Often having problems remembering appointments or obligations, or inconveniently changing plans on a regular basis_

It's as if someone dug into his brain and poured it beneath a microscope, holding up his flaws and weaknesses to a reflective lens. Only, they aren't flaws, now, just maybe – maybe they aren't the vices he's always been told they are.

Lazy, irresponsible, distracted, immature, rude, inconsiderate, self-centered, childish; all words flung at him over the years, all stamped onto his back, burdens he bears around with him wherever he goes.

He finds himself drifting off during a professor's lecture and gets called out and insulted in front of hundreds of classmates.

He gets screamed at by his father in law for being a lazy ass when he just doesn't have the motivation to get up and do any of his chores.

He starts projects and reading assignments and never finishes them, and ends up failing quizzes and tests; he drifts away when he tries sitting down to work on paperwork, and is constantly being reminded by everyone on the ship that he should do his work, each one of them condemning him with just their irritated glares, though Bones always threw in a sharp word or two.

He forgets little details from mission packets and has to listen to Spock drone on about the importance of paying attention; he leaps without looking and has to listen to Bones lecture him about being a rash, idiotic child.

And now, he finds himself sitting at his desk, crying, wondering why no one ever thought that it might not be his fault.

Gaze drifting down, he spots one more piece of information that completes the puzzle.

_Adults with ADHD are often perceived by others as chaotic and disorganized, with a tendency to need high stimulation to be less distracted and function effectively. Additionally, many adults suffer from associated or "co-morbid" psychiatric conditions such as depression or anxiety._

Jim can't help the snort that comes out of his mouth then. That is the icing on the cake. They may as well have stamped his face into the dictionary next to ADHD, 'cause he is its very definition. And though he knows he's no doctor, he knows he can't diagnose himself and honestly, he could be wrong, somehow he knows he's not.

Jim thinks about how he came here; how he just happened to go and visit Bones when the man was with a patient diagnosed with ADHD, looking to refill his medication.

"What's ADHD?" He had asked.

"Don't poke your nose into my patient's business." Bones had quipped, and then told him to wait in his office for him.

Should've known that once Jim is curious about something, he doesn't let go. So he'd taken some pads about ADHD from Bones' office.

Funny, Jim thinks as more tears roll down his face, and his lips tremble, how the most innocuous little things can change your life, forever.

* * *

They are in the middle of a chess game in one of the recreation rooms when two other officers enter the space.

"This was a few years ago," The first officer, a woman in a blue science uniform, begins to speak. Jim catches sight of her in the corner of his eye, his gaze snapping to the barrette in her hair, with a flower on it. It's striking. She's leaning on the woman who walked in with her, who is in civilian clothes, and the closeness of them hints that they might be together. Huh, Jim thinks, glancing back at the chess game. He knows there are other queer people in Starfleet, but he's never met any. It might be nice to know some.

"Your move, Jim." Spock says, and suddenly Jim is shocked out of his head, jumping a little.

"Right, I'm just thinking it over." He covers for his daydreaming, eyes scanning the board to try and find where Spock moved his last piece. He can't even tell – his mind blanks, all the data of the many pieces bombarding his head and it's as if a switch has been thrown, turning off whatever works between his eyes and his brain. He stops. He honestly cannot say what has been moved.

"It was around, um, January, I think," Jim hears the woman continue speaking. What was in January? Oh, shit, doesn't Bones have a birthday in January? Or maybe that was his daughter, Joanna. Calm down, Jim, the man thinks. It's not even close to January yet. "I remember it snowed that year at Christmas and my little niece was so cute, she'd never seen snow before."

"Oh, wow. Where were you living?"

"North Carolina." The woman answers. Jim has an aunt living in North Carolina. Or, she used to. Moved to Nebraska a few years ago, he thinks.

"Jim?" He doesn't hear Spock talking to him – he hears the woman continue her story, as he desperately tries to remember how to play chess. What was he doing? Wasn't there a gambit here? Oh… yes! He was going to try…

"My parents – my Dad was still alive back then – had this brand new hovercar they were giving to my oldest nephew,"

"This is your step sister's son?"

"Yeah, he's technically not blood related but he's still my nephew." Jim can hear the fondness in her voice. Suddenly he thinks of his own nephew and feels a pang of longing. It's been a while since he called Sam and Aurelan.

"Jim, are you unwell?"

Head snapping up, Jim felt panic burst to life in his chest. "Uh, fine, just – headache." He reaches out and moves a pawn just to move something, when he finally recognizes that Spock moved his rook, and all the plans and the movements he'd figured for the game return to his head, settling back down where they'd belong as if they'd never been suddenly erased. Why the hell couldn't he reach them before?

"The car turned out to be something of a fixer upper, and David wasn't all that good at driving it – a little reckless, you know how teenagers are –"

Jim struggles to watch Spock and pay attention so he can actually remember where the man moves his piece and maybe offer a slight challenge, and wishes that those two could talk anywhere but here.

Spock looks briefly up at him, a slight hint of concern in his eyes, and Jim feels his chest tighten.

"Hey, um – can I ask you a question?" As soon as he speaks, he vaguely regrets doing it.

"First time he took it out with his girlfriend, they totaled it in a parking lot!"

"Least they didn't try driving it off a cliff," Jim mumbles.

"Captain?"

"Uh, nothing," Licking his lips, he scoots forward in the chair. "Do you think – I mean, when you mind melded with me, those times."

"Oh, poor guy. They were okay right?"

"Everybody came out fine, except for the car."

"Yes, Jim?"

"I – uh" Chest alit with nerves and hands sweaty as he drums a beat against the arm of his chair, Jim just lets it out. "Is there something wrong with my head?"

Spock blinks, which means he's taken by surprise. "I do not understand the query."

"I mean – you know – when you mind melded with me, on missions and stuff. Was there… something wrong?"

"So I took it off his hands and started rebuilding it. It was a fun project, I just wish I could've taken it out with me here."

"You like tinkering with things?"

"I like fixing things – whether they're living or not."

Spock frowns. "Are you experiencing some sort of pain? Or a variance in your physical health?"

Grimacing, Jim shakes his head, reaches out and knocks his king over, standing. "Never mind. I gotta go, I'll play you some other time." He rushes from the room, eager to hide, eager to be far, far away from the rec room… from everyone and everything.

* * *

He orders every text, every how-to guide he can about Adult ADHD, its symptoms, causes, and treatments, and dives into them. For a week he doesn't do a lick of paperwork. Bones yells at him about not filing the requisition orders for medical, and he knows he needs to do them, but every time he sits in front of them and starts reading through, he'll get one paragraph and feel the need to stretch. He looks at the pile of work on his desk and just does not, cannot, will not do it. Worry nags at his head, but it's not enough to force him to concentrate on the work he's drowning in.

Reading about the condition convinces him even more that he has it, that it is in his head, screwing up his life. He could never focus, never sit still, never shut up and listen, and adult behaviors have never been his strong suit. It's just, he was sure he was just an immature brat who would never amount to anything. It never occurred to him it might be some kind of disease or something.

He's got to find a way to work around it. If Starfleet found out, or god forbid, his team found out – they'd never trust a moron with some kind of head problem to lead them. He'd be kicked to the curb pronto. He's barely making it as Captain now, but if he can clean his act up, maybe no one will ever know.

The intercom sounds off. Confused, Jim sits up, looking to the door. "Come in!"

The door opens, revealing Sulu in his combat gear, a somewhat dejected look on his face. "Captain." He starts, looking a bit nervous as he stands awkwardly in the doorway. "Are, uh… are we still on for today?"

"On for what?" He asks, and Sulu's expression takes on a hint of insult when suddenly Jim remembers: he made plans to practice fencing with Sulu today! God, how could he have forgotten? But even as he looks at the hurt look on his friend's face, he realizes he really just does not want to do anything. He wants nothing less than to get up and try being social at this point.

"Oh, god I am so sorry, I just – I'm neck deep in all this, uh, work and -"

"Don't worry about it." Sulu says tightly, backing away. "It's no problem."

"We could reschedule!" Even as he says it, the idea of actually meeting at a specific time irks him. He's got so much already, so many things he has to go to that he doesn't want to go to, why would he add to it? But if he doesn't, Sulu's gonna hate him.

"Forget about it." Sulu shakes him off, and the door closes, shutting Jim away in his room, secluded. A strange sense of relief floods him, and yet he feels guilty, even sad.

Maybe Sulu hates him already.

* * *

Jim turns into the med bay with a relieved sigh. It's been a long day – a really long day – and all he really wants is to kick back and relax, preferably with somebody to commiserate with. He knows just the somebody – if that somebody is amenable to it, which Jim thinks he will be, with the right nudge.

"Hey, Bones," Kirk begins, swinging into the doctor's office, where the man is hunched over his desk.

"No." The man grinds out, which takes his friend by surprise.

"But I haven't -"

"I know that tone of voice, Jim Kirk." The Captain winces a little. "Whatever you want, it can wait."

Sliding into the chair in front of Bones desk, Jim manages a smile and leans forward. "Come on, Bones. It's Friday! It's the weekend!"

"Starship officers don't get weekends, Jim."

"Come on." His friend is still working away, but Jim isn't nervous about his prospects. Bones is always up for a little fun, with the right application of Jim Kirk charm. "I managed to squirrel away a little contraband for a special occasion and in my book Fridays are special occasions – but drinking alone is pathetic, whereas drinking with a friend is fun, so you have to come."

"Contraband – really, Jim?" Finally Bones looks up, and there's something haggard and harsh in his look that Jim finds upsetting. "Now, I know there's always gonna be contraband on a starship, but the goddamn Captain gossiping about it in the med bay?"

"I'm not gossiping, Bones, I'm talking with a friend!"

"With your CMO, who happens to be way behind in every goddamn area because I've had to pick up for your slack!" Jim realizes very quickly that this isn't a little spat that will be brushed aside and forgotten, this is a fight, this is Bones angry. "I'm working with the bare minimum supplies because you haven't fucking bothered to approve the supply orders I desperately need! I have staff working double time because you've been ignoring my requests for some people to be transferred from lab sciences!"

Transfer requests? He never – oh god. Suddenly Jim remembers the transfer requests. Didn't he approve those? He is absolutely sure he approved those. … didn't he?

"Bones, I swear I didn't mean -"

"It doesn't matter what you meant, kid." Now his friend sounds somewhat tired, even resigned, but still very angry. "Honest to god, I think you could be a great Captain someday. But if you don't buck up, start taking your work seriously, and act like a fucking adult, you won't be here very long."

What the hell does that mean? "What the hell does that mean?"

"That means Jim that I'm the Chief Medical Officer of this ship, and I have a responsibility to its crew. And if I think you aren't fit to be Captain, then you won't be Captain anymore."

Oh god.

Paling, Jim leaps to his feet and starts backing away. He doesn't say anything – even as Bones' look softens a little, he ignores his friend. "Jim -"

"Gotta go," He spits out, before leaping out the door, running through the hall, and locking himself in his quarters.

Panicking, breathing in and out with harsh, quick breaths, Jim fights to calm down. He's running his hands through his hair repeatedly, pacing the room, realizing with a sinking, horrible feeling, that he is in big trouble.

He's going to lose the ship. If he keeps screwing up – if Bones realizes he has this ADHD crap – he'll declare him medically unfit for duty. He'll be out of Starfleet. He'll – he'll lose _everything_.

A sudden rage overtakes him and Jim screams, picking up a priceless alien artifact he'd received as a gift on an away mission, turning and throwing it across the room. It shatters against the far wall, and for a minute, Jim feels nothing but the empty remorseless vacuum of satisfaction. He stares at the remnants of the gift and realizes he should feel upset, that he should be regretful, but he's not. He doesn't care. Maybe later he will.

He has to find a way to fix this. _Soon_.

* * *

The next few weeks are the hardest of Jim's life.

He starts forcing himself to focus on everything, which taxes on his energy like nothing else. He takes notes at meetings so he'll be forced to listen, creates lists of tasks he has to do so he won't forget, and makes a weekly and monthly agenda. It helps… marginally.

He manages to finish paperwork, but more often than not it is sent back for review because he forgot to finish some aspect of it, did some part wrong, or neglected some form of protocol.

He makes most of his meetings, but still struggles to pay attention for the long periods of reporting and debriefings.

Away missions are where he thrives. For all that he suffers during the rest of it; the away missions make it all worthwhile. He tries to read the briefings beforehand, but most days, he just wings it, and it makes everything more exciting. He finally feels alive then – like his brain is on fire, like his soul might burst out of his chest, as if nothing will hurt again.

Then the mission ends, and life returns to the drudgery of ship work.

He can't sleep. His mind runs away with him at night, leaving him exhausted through the day. His body thrums and aches with how often he forces himself to sit still and listen, to take in what he's been told and remember it. It only works half the time – he's still being yelled at by most of his superior officers, save Spock, who have grown so tired of his immaturity that most of them have forgotten proper respect. Uhura and Bones aren't afraid to let him have it, and even Sulu and Scotty are getting frustrated. Spock seems… pensive, mostly, when they speak. He often shows irritation, but never outright anger.

He doesn't blame them; he's angry too, all the time, and most of the time he's pissed at himself. Why the fuck can't he just sit and listen and remember things? Why does it feel like his mind is trying to fly away and leave him? Why do simple things seem impossible, and unimportant things so tempting?

During a vid conference with Ambassador Spock, the question which has been nagging at his mind since all this started bursts out. "Was there anything wrong with your Kirk?"

It startles the elderly Spock, Kirk can tell. This Spock doesn't try anywhere near as hard to hide his emotions. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you are asking."

"I mean… was he sick or something?" Mouth dry, Kirk licks his lips. "Y'know, in the head?"

Eyebrows uplifted, Spock looks at Jim as if he is a strange conundrum, and also seems slightly appalled. "There was nothing, to my knowledge, which ailed my Jim Kirk in his youth." His eyebrows come together. "Is there something wrong, Jim?"

He terminates the connection, and immediately hates himself for it. What the fuck was that? He just completely ignored Spock, rudely cut him off, without so much as a goodbye. He's such a fucking asshole. He should really call back and apologize. … Maybe later.

Anxiety and angst catch Jim's heart in a vice and squeeze. Of course the original Kirk was perfect. Of course he didn't have this stupid ADHD shit fucking up his life. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jim ignores the tears burning his eyes, and decides to stay up a while, maybe read. It's not like he'd be able to sleep anyway.

* * *

Like all good things in Jim Kirk's life, his role as Captain, his friendship with Bones, his newly formed bonds with his crewmembers, they all shatter, because he is a fucked up asshole who can't do anything right.

It doesn't really matter how it happened; to be honest, he's not sure he remembers. They came to New Vulcan to deliver some supplies and take a short shore leave, and the senior officers put together a small party.

Jim had been thrilled – parties were his thing, and he was so ready to kick back and relax. So maybe all his heads of staff were mad at him, and he wasn't talking to his best friend. He could forget that for a night, right?

He only drank a little; no matter what Bones said, he was trying to be a responsible Captain. The night started well. They were gathered in one of the larger rec rooms, and Jim had his fun by casually drifting around the party, pointedly ignoring the people he was no longer on speaking terms with.

That was, until, he happened to accidentally back into Cupcake, the guy who still hadn't forgiven him for a bar fight that happened years ago. His chief of security was good at his job, but they never got along. He could've walked away. A mature, responsible Captain would've given a civil greeting, and left the man to finish his game of pool.

Cupcake had said something smart, so Jim shot right back at him. They kept firing at each other, words growing harsher, tone growing darker, until Cupcake said the words that ended Jim's career, his very life.

"You're a fuck up of a Captain, and the sooner Starfleet figures that out and gets rid of your ass the better off we'll all be."

Blinding, boiling hot rage blocked out everything rational, everything calm in his mind. Jim threw the first punch, and the second. And when they got to brawling, he broke the man's pool cue across his arm.

The rest is something of a blur; he remembers the fight being split up, Spock's disapproving glare, Chekov's shocked, wide eyes, Bones getting in his face and yelling about responsibility, about self-control, and then he – he was relieved of command.

Jim's not sure where he's going. He's not really sure he cares. No, he doesn't care. He needs to move, to do something, to hurt something, and he wants it all to stop, wants to pull his head off his shoulders, wants the hurricane in his brain to end, wants to jump out the nearest fucking airlock –

He's running through the halls and he's so distracted he never sees them coming, just slams right into somebody, who catches him and holds him up with no struggle. Jim gasps and leaps away, wet eyes rising to find, to his absolute horror that he stands before Ambassador Sarek and his wife.

Of course. They're at New Vulcan – of course Spock's family would come to see him. The image of Spock's blatant disapproval courses through him again and he shudders, his insides melting, his very soul shriveling into a bitter nothingness where all he feels is anger and regret.

"God, I – I am so sorry," He stumbles, realizing that he is the fucking Captain and these are dignitaries meant to be treated with respect – then he remembers he is not the Captain, and who they are doesn't matter, nothing fucking matters, it's over. It's enough to make him want to fall to his knees and fall apart, but not here, where everyone can see, where Sarek can judge him and find him lacking in logic and whatever the fuck else.

"Captain Kirk?" Mrs. Spock (Mrs. Sarek? Mrs. Ambassador?) sounds concerned, stepping closer to him with a hand half raised, then she gasps. "You're bleeding!"

He should say he's okay, he should fake it long enough to get the fuck away from here, but then he realizes Sarek's not letting go, and hey his hand is touching is skin and that's how Spock always knows what he's thinking.

"You should stay out of my head." He mumbles, looking up at the Vulcan through bleary eyes. Sarek's brow is furrowed but that's all the emotion that shows on his face. "It's fucked up, up there – maybe even contagious."

Sarek frowns – and suddenly Jim feels that murderous rage overtaking him again. He looks at Sarek and sees the unruffled perfection, the high and mighty intelligence, the amazing brain that he could never match, and he rages at the injustice, that he was born wrong, born an idiot, and he's lost everything he's ever wanted because of it. In that rush of anger he loses all sense of self, of peace, ready to explode.

"Let go, goddammit!" He pulls his arm back violently and Sarek does not let go, so he lifts his fist, knowing this is the most ridiculous, idiotic thing he's ever done, that he can't match a Vulcan for strength, but he has to do something. Anything is better than this stillness, this lack of action that leaves him floundering in his morbid thoughts – even pain is a better alternative.

There is no pain, though; only a hand gripping his shoulder, then nothing.

* * *

Jim comes to feeling a hand on his neck, and two more brushing through his hair. His head is on someone's lap, and it almost feels like he's being cradled, but that's ridiculous. Who would do that for him? Bones cares about him sure, but he's not a touchy feely guy… then it hits him. Bones doesn't care anymore – nobody cares, because he's a fucking loser who can't do anything right.

He snaps out of sleep, attempts to buck out of the hold of his captors, but the hand near his neck keeps him down easily, and a soothing voice speaks to him.

"Calm down, Jim, it's okay, you're safe," The voice is sweet, soft, alluring, makes him want to lie back and let someone else take care of things for a change. But that's not right; he can't rely on anyone, because he's going to disappoint them and then they'll leave. They'll –

Somehow, he begins to feel better, as if a blanket has been placed over all his pain and anger, muffling it in the back of his mind. He forces his eyes open, and meets the steady, even gaze of Sarek of Vulcan, looking down on him.

"Are you doing that?" Kirk asks drunkenly, still reeling from… everything. The Vulcan answers with a slight nod of affirmation. "Why?"

"Captain Kirk," He winces at the title, looking up to see Amanda behind him, looking down. It's her lap his head is cradled in, and her hands drifting through his hair. They're in a bed of some sort, but he doesn't recognize the room. "Are you all right? What happened?"

Frowning, he closes his eyes, wishing he could shut out the world. He doesn't say a thing.

"Mr. Kirk is no longer Captain of the Enterprise." Sarek says quietly. "He has been relieved of command."

The rage is upon him again, overwhelming, as yet again his privacy is invaded by Vulcans who don't know when to keep their minds to themselves – then that calming force is back, rushing into his mind and gently pressing the anger back.

"Be calm, Kirk," Sarek insists. "I am not invading your private thoughts. My son informed me of the incident two point three hours ago."

Oh. Well, now he feels like even more of an idiot, and fights the urge to curl into himself.

There are questions he should ask: like, where are they, and why are they here with him? Has the Enterprise gone? Did they leave him on New Vulcan?

Someone enters the room. Jim can hear them, but doesn't bother to look, falling instead into the pit of his mind. He's screwed it all up. He's such a fucking fuck up. Cupcake was right, they were all right. What was he thinking, imagining he could do this?

Sarek stands, and when his hand leaves Jim's skin, the man surprises himself by immediately reaching out and latching onto Sarek's hand. Both Vulcan and human show immediately shock; Jim stares as if he can't believe he did that. But beneath that, he feels the sudden surge of urgency, the need to keep this man here, this person who in such a short time managed to extend such a calming influence on such a turbulent mind. This… father… not his father, but…

"You must let go, Jim Kirk," Sarek quietly tells him. "I will return in approximately three hours." It's hard, but Jim forces himself to let go, and watches as Sarek strides from the room, his heart sinking – only to gasp as a familiar face takes Sarek's place by Jim's side.

"Spock," He doesn't think that maybe Amanda doesn't know this older Vulcan is her son from the future, he thinks only of reaching out and grabbing tight hold of the man who's been such a comfort to him since they met in that cave. "_Spock_." He chokes on the name, and on the pitying look in his friend's eyes.

"Oh, Jim." The hand that comes to him doesn't touch his neck, but cradles his cheek, then runs up into his hair, taking the place of Amanda's hands, which now rest upon his shoulders. That calming influence drifts over him again, better than before, because now it's a mind he recognizes, one he cherishes. His hands tremble as he holds tight to Spock's arms. In no time, he's asleep again.

* * *

Later, he will learn that Starfleet's admirals were told it was a medical emergency; that the Enterprise had to stall at New Vulcan due to a threat to the Captain's health. In the moment, though, Jim feels as if he is on trial, and finds it hard to look at his former friend's faces as they judge him.

He's sitting at one end of the table, and has a strange group in his corner. On one side, Sarek stands next to Amanda, who is in a chair beside Jim. On the other side, Spock – or Selek – is seated, one of his hands reaching out to take hold of Jim's in a very open display of support, which Jim is very grateful for.

Upon the table are data pads, all about him, facts and figures that somehow make some ruling upon Jim's life, on what's been going on inside his head. They're from the remade Vulcan Science Academy, where Jim was tested and scanned and poked and prodded for a week by accomplished doctors and scientists who were well versed in human biology and psychology. The results have already been shared with the whole group.

The 'group' is made of the most important officers on the ship: Spock; Bones; Scotty; Uhura; Sulu; Chekov; and a nurse named Chapel. Kirk has not looked at any of their faces since this whole thing started.

"Jim?"

The voice shakes him out of his reverie and he startles, realizing who is talking to him, lifting his head and looking just past Bones. He hears the doctor sigh, but Bones doesn't press it. Something is slid across the table to him, and Jim looks down: it's his collection of works on ADHD.

"What is this, Jim?" Bones asks delicately. He's being surprisingly docile.

He shrugs. "Light reading." He's not in uniform – he's not an officer anymore. He feels so out of place amongst this crowd where he no longer belongs.

"Jim, I do not believe that is the truth."

He can't help but snort. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters, Jim!" There's some of the fire back in Bones' voice. "You figured it out, didn't you? You realized there was something wrong, and you didn't tell anybody."

Something _wrong_. Jim frowns and looks away. "I knew there was no point."

"No point?" Bones retorts. "What the hell do you mean -"

"I mean there is no point!" Jim shouts, throwing his free arm up. "There's no cure for this, okay? There's no fix, my head's fucked up and broken and there's nothing to do about it."

Chekov very nervously speaks up. "Keptin, there are medications."

"Okay, one, don't call me that." Chekov winces at the pain in Kirk's voice but Kirk finds he doesn't care. "Two, yeah, okay, I can try the drugs – and what, become a completely different fucking person? I mean, I read about that stuff." Jim fidgets, looking down at the floor, feeling somewhat vulnerable as he speaks. "I mean, this – I know I'm not smart or mature but this is who I am. And – and who knows what the fucking drugs'll do? They change people. Like, they suck the life out sometimes, or they just make you different, and I – I don't want to be different, I just want to be fixed!"

"You are not broken, James Kirk." Spock, the elder, insists vehemently from beside him, his hand squeezing Jim's. "You are not broken."

Jim snorts, avoiding his gaze, but then to his surprise other voices speak up in agreement.

"ADHD isn't a problem; it's just part of who you are." Uhura says from her place beside the younger Spock. "You have to learn how to control it and work with it."

"And part of being who I am is an inattentive dumbass? That's just great."

"That's not -"

"Captain," Hearing Spock say that hurts even more, but before Jim can get mad, the man continues. "If I were to become permanently blinded during a mission, and forced to change how I function as a Starfleet officer, would you consider me at fault for the necessity of the changes?"

Uh, where is this going? "No, but -"

"What if I had been born blind? Would you consider me as somehow weaker or incapable as an officer?"

"Of course not -"

"Is it not true that you believe any officer with a disability or impairment is fully capable of being an accomplished member of this crew, given the appropriate considerations for their condition?"

"Yeah! That's not -"

"If that is true for others, why do you not consider it true for yourself?"

"But – you guys are the ones that relieved me! You said -"

"Jim, I thought you were being immature and irresponsible, which you were, but it wasn't your fault."

Scoffing, Jim turns his anger on Bones, leaning towards the table. "How was it not my fault?"

"Because that's what ADHD means, Jim! It means there are processes in your brain you just can't control, that there are deficiencies that affect your behavior and your judgment, and that's not on you." Sighing, Bones leans on his arms on the table. "If I had known – if I'd realized, then we would have known why you were having so much trouble with your responsibilities and we could've started working with you on them sooner."

"What're you talking about?"

"Captain," Jim turns to the nurse. "You aren't the only ADD or ADHD person on the ship. We work with quite a few people to help them create a plan that works for them and to assist in making changes that will benefit their job performance, personal relationships, and mental health. Now that we know you are ADHD, we can work on creating a plan for you."

"You're talking like," He can't keep his voice from hitching. "Like I'm coming back."

"It is against Starfleet regulations to relieve any officer of duty due to a disability or impairment." Jim turns to Spock, not daring to feel any hope though he wants to.

"That's not – I'm not…" Jim's shaking. A hand comes down on his shoulder, and he jumps, looking up in shock to see Sarek at his side.

"It is illogical to consider your worth negatively for that which you have no control over."

That's it, the end of his strength, the very last straw. Jim cries.

* * *

"Captain, you have a meeting with Admiral Nogura in five minutes."

"Oh, shit!" Leaping out of the chair, Kirk stumbles up to the turbo lift, only to slide to a halt, turn back and run over to Uhura, placing a little kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, Nyota."

"Anytime, Captain," She beams at him, and Spock saunters over from his station to join her. Kirk stays where he is, just in front of the lift.

"Looking for a little action too, Spock?" Kirk winks at him. "There's plenty to go around."

"I do not believe I would gain as much physical gratification from the act if it was performed by you, Captain." His lips are quirking upward slightly, which is a big grin when it comes to Spock. "Lt. Uhura, however…"

"I get it, you're madly in love, all right, all right," He waves them off, which makes Spock smile a bit more and Uhura giggles. "Just promise that if you two ever consider experimenting with a third person, you'll remember my number."

"Not in a million years." Uhura shoots back. He gives her a little wave and ducks into the lift, crossing his arms and leaning back with a big smile on his face.

He gets through the meeting with Nogura, recording it so he can look back and make sure he remembered everything, while he also takes notes. Luckily this meeting is pretty short, and he's able to move on to more interesting things.

After the meeting, he sits down to some paperwork, all of which has been read through already by his very attentive new yeoman, Janice Rand. The woman is more than happy to go through all of Jim's assignments, highlight the important things, summarize the big thoughts, and mark the things he should make sure to remember or focus on. He gets to work, reading over what she has done, signing where he needs to, when the intercom goes off.

"Come on in," He replies, and looks up to see Chekov striding into the room.

"Here you go, Keptin," He beams as he sets the pad down in front of him. "Next mission briefing has been read through – the first page is the highlights, with everything important that you need to know. I also recorded it so you can hear it being read aloud." He then grinned broadly, feeling very proud of himself, and Jim couldn't help but laugh.

"Thanks a ton Chekov, I owe you."

"We are still on for chess tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes, of course! I will see you at…" He checks his pad. "19:00, right?"

Nodding happily, Chekov heads to the door. "See you then, Keptin!"

Jim can't help but grin back. After the interruption though, he's not feeling the paperwork so much. So he gets up, heads to the gym for a bit of a run, and after he's expended some energy, sits back down to tackle it again.

* * *

Being captain doesn't suddenly become easy.

Because he opted to not take the meds, all the symptoms are still there. Jim still fights to pay attention, to remember things, to go to sleep at a decent time. His emotions can be virulent and sharp, changing constantly, and he's sensitive to critique and sometimes indecisive, and at times he just wants to do nothing and sometimes he is so focused on one thing that it's all he can think about.

It's hard – he works with Spock to control his emotions and thoughts, to the amusement of pretty much everyone on the ship, and he struggles to keep his mouth shut when he would rather let it run. Once a week he meets with Chapel, who is now his therapist but he refuses to call her that. All his senior officers know about his condition down to the gritty details, and they've all worked out ways to help him cope, to keep the ship running as best it can, and to keep its Captain in the best shape possible.

Bones calls them 'coping mechanisms', and Jim has them by the boatload now. It's helped, a lot, but what's helped best of all is the fact that it's not a secret anymore, that he's not carrying it around like some shameful burden anymore.

That, and he's got Bones back.

Jim swings by the med bay at the end of his shift, humming a happy tune, arms swinging at his sides. He doesn't see Bones, but Chapel smiles and waves him towards the doctor's office. Jim sends her a salute and double times it to Bones' room.

He knocks twice on the wall then enters the room. "Hiya, Bones," He grins, but then the grin falters at the look on his friend's face.

Bones looks trashed. It vanishes somewhat quickly when Jim enters the room, but the doctor is clearly upset.

"What happened?" Jim is at his side in an instant. "Is there something wrong with the ship?"

The doctor sighs. "No Jim, everything's fine."

"Then, what? Is it – is it Joanna?"

"No," Waving him off, Bones sighs, rubs his hands over his face. "There's nothing – I'm fine."

Snorting, Jim crosses his arms. "That's funny, trying to bullshit the bullshitter."

Bones frowns, and levels Jim with an even, irritated stare. Jim meets him glare for glare, refusing to back off when his friend is clearly upset. Not so long ago he thought he'd lost Bones forever and there is no way he's going to risk anything happening to his friend now. "Come on, fess up. You know me, I'm chronically stubborn."

"Ain't that the truth," The doctor sighs finally, glancing away as if realizing he's beat. He's quiet for a minute, leaning his hip against his desk, arms crossed. "Jim… Jim, I'm sorry."

A soft smile replaces Jim's frown. "We've been through this already Bones. There's nothing to forgive."

"Like hell there isn't!"

"Nobody knew – I wasn't even sure, not really." Jim shrugged. "For all intents and purposes, I looked like I was a really bad, really irresponsible Captain, and you did the right thing relieving me."

"That's not - dammit." Running a hand over his face, Bones sighs. "That's not what I mean."

"Then what?"

"Jim, I'm your goddamn doctor." Bones begins again, his tone quiet and listless. "I've known you longer than anybody on this ship, and I am fucking trained in how to diagnose and treat ADHD and I – I didn't even realize you – I didn't even see it."

Something strikes Jim in the heart, hits him right where it hurts, and all he really wants is to pull Bones into his arms and grip him tight. "Bones, it's not your fault." Before his friend can start another tirade, Jim holds his hands up. "You weren't even really my doctor until we got on this ship. Before that, we were just friends, and I was the lazy daredevil kid who never turned assignments in on time – which was, to be honest, just like half the student body." Jim laughs. "I hid the rest of it pretty well, I think, so you had no way of knowing."

"Yeah, but once we were on the ship, once I saw how much you were struggling, I should've done something, noticed something!" Throwing his hands up, Bones starts pacing, going red in the face. "Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor! And I almost ruined your career and your life because I didn't see what was ailing you!" Gesturing at Jim, Bones hesitates, eyes watery. Jim looks at the heartbreak on his friend's face and feels his heartbeat skip.

"It's been hard for everybody, Bones. We're the flagship of a fleet that no longer really exists, and part of a graduating class that was cut down from a few thousand to a few hundred." Jim comes round the desk to face Bones. "Everybody's had extra work on them, including you – plus you were doing things that I was letting fall through the cracks. The stress got to everybody."

"You're not hearing me, Jim!" Bones grabs his shoulders, shakes him hard, and Jim goes slack in his grip. "I almost lost you!" The man is openly weeping; eyes squeezed shut, head down. "I – I shouldn't have – I never meant -"

Right then, Jim feels another one of those impulsive, rash actions rise up in him. It floods him, and after a moment's hesitation, he lets it free and acts upon it: sealing his lips over Bones', silencing him.

In a matter of seconds, the two are wrapping limbs around one another, feverishly arching into each other's touch. Jim lets out a moan as deft fingers scrape at his scalp, and hears Bones return it when he reaches down and takes firm hold of the doctor's ass. They shift against each other, Bones pulling Jim tightly to him as if to try and keep him there forever.

Jim licks the lines of Bones' tears and mutters I forgive you, into his skin.

* * *

The day the Enterprise is set to leave, Jim, Bones, Uhura, and Spock beam down to New Vulcan to say goodbye.

Jim's really not sure if he's going to be able to say anything at all really. Just standing outside Sarek and Amanda's house he feels his heart choking him, his throat drying up, and he's not sure he can remain standing for much longer. Luckily, the married couple comes to him, approaching him outside their door. Sarek nods to his son and his son's 'betrothed' or whatever the hell Vulcans call their girlfriends, and Amanda smiles broadly at both of them.

"This whole trip will be worth it if Amanda gives Spock mom kisses," Jim mutters under his breath, and Bones barely bites back a laugh.

As Amanda does indeed fuss over her son and Uhura, Sarek approaches the Captain. Jim feels as if suddenly all his veins have gotten tight, as if his skin is on fire, but he stands still, forcing himself to keep his gaze even with the Ambassador.

"Ambassador Sarek…" He begins, already overcome with emotion. "I just… um… I wanted to thank you, for everything." It feels so inadequate, his paltry gratitude, in light of everything Sarek and Amanda have done for him. If they hadn't caught him that night and insisted on staying with him through the days after, through all the testing and the doctor's visits, he would probably be on a shuttle getting lost in the most backwater planet he could find right now.

Bones knows that too; Jim can see that the doctor is just as emotionally compromised as he is.

Sarek nods, his Vulcan masks as strong as ever, but then he begins to speak. "James Kirk… I would have you know that, in light of all that you have done for my people, and my son," He pauses, glancing minutely at Spock, who, if his raised eyebrows are any clue, seems vaguely surprised. "That you will always be welcome in my household."

That… that hits him right in the gut. If he thought he was emotionally compromised before… "Thank you so much, sir that really means a lot to me." He can barely speak, and he's quivering, and god he's pathetic standing here such a mess in front of the Ambassador of Vulcan.

"I would also have you know that I and she who is my wife are in agreement in choosing to recognize you as a member of our household… as our son."

Stop. _Everything_.

"What?" His voice is weak, terribly weak, and he wishes it weren't. "You're not… you can't be serious."

"I, too, am in agreement Jim." Jim's head whips around to face Spock. "It is only logical considering I already value you as a being akin to a brother."

"You…" Heart hammering in his chest, Jim can't stop a giddy laugh. "You're serious. You're serious! I mean… are you sure?"

"I am positive, Jim. The only downside to being your relative is the consideration that I am now distantly related to the doctor."

"Don't start with me, hobgoblin." Bones shoots back. "The way I see it, the only good side to being related to _you_ is the honor of being in the same family as this lovely lady." He moves closer to Uhura, elbowing her side. "What do you see in that pointy eared bastard anyway?"

Grinning ear to ear, Uhura shakes her head. "You guys are hopeless."

Watching them… watching his family, laughing and smiling (even the Vulcans, in their own way), Jim couldn't possibly disagree more. After everything he's been through, the fact that's he's somehow survived, somehow been gifted with this amazing life with all these amazing people and this amazing job, Jim can't believe it; and he has never felt more hopeful in his life.


End file.
